One Final Effort
by The Fish with no pen
Summary: The war ravaged Cybertron and Optimus Prime sent out a call for them all to come to earth, but what was happening upon that world, and why have so few actually made it to earth? Not all battles can be won, and victory to the good guys. AU before/after 09
1. Chapter 1

**Synopsis:** Cybertron lies dead beneath their feet, even as the war continues to rage on. Now as a message from their leader is received a group of Autobots begin their travel to a planet called earth. Of course, getting there is going to be half the challenge with Decepticons and various hazards of space travel to encounter. Will this group of fourteen make it there or will some of them become yet another casualty in this journey?

**Disclaimer:** Last I looked I wasn't Michael Bay, so nope definitely not going to claim ownership of any kind outside of some of the toys staring at me from their positions on my desk.

**Basic Notes:** This is my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project that is going to be slow to update for even though I hit 50k with it back in November it wasn't completely coherent or even readable in some sections. Add I skipped around in the timeline as well also means I have to go through and write additional scenes and chapters to tie others together in some sort of cohesive fashion. This mother is probably going to be huge. This is also an AU of the 07/09 Movies with G1 characters adapted to fit in, and some random background OC's.

**General Story Wide Warnings:** Mentions of torture, fighting, experimentation, death, Cybertronian style cursing, TF style gore, detail depictions of dying, torture, experimentation, and other not nice things done to sentient robots. This story isn't going to be hearts and fluffy bunnies and will deviate far from such hopes the further we get in. This is not a happy bonding experience and these mechs who are up there as my favorite mechs from G1 and various other cartoon incarnations are not going to be leaving this story unscathed or even fully operational. (The more I love them the more I torture them) So please bear this in mind before you come at me for it.

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The metal world, once glittering brightly with the lights of vibrant cities and teeming with life, lays practically dead as it floats in its set path within the universe. The gleaming metal now dull and blackened in many places with what can only be scorched marks of various weapons and explosives that has caked and layered the ground, that some have forgotten how the planet had once looked beneath the layers of grime, energon, and coolant fluids. Buildings that had once seem to pierce the sky to the optics of the ones who had walked amongst them in times of peace, now crumble and represent nothing more then twisted pieces of metal and other materials; either to be harvested by scavengers or act as hiding places or hindrances to those who still creep along the deserted streets in clashes that are becoming increasingly more inane as time wears on. The planet of Cybertron has fallen so far that at times it almost seems like a myth that there had once been a golden era for this planet. When there was no dividing line between the inhabitants in the form of faction and ideology.

One particular city a grand testament of the violent change in the very way that the Cybertronian life has gone.

The city of Iacon, the once great capital of Cybertron and the center of society, with the Allspark housed in its own special place near the hall of elders. Where once the Council had met and debated laws and edicts that were supposed to help and bring all unto equal ground. Now laid to waste, both buildings bombed skeletons reaching up to the sky and darkened with ash and soot, even as the odd acid rain begins to build clouds to unleash its contents upon the exposed metal. The downpour slowly eating away at any living thing that was not under cover by the time the strongest point of the downpour began. A lone turbofox, almost skeletal in appearance darting almost fearfully between the buildings being a jarring sight in the still landscape as it searches and hides from both the rain and instinctual fear of what may be out there waiting. While half a cycle travel to the west the city of Polyhex gave another feeling. Deep as it was in Decepticon hands; Shockwave's seemingly endless army of drones creeping and skittering over the ruins of the great trade city; somehow creating an even deeper feeling of death and forlorn hope with their erratic movements.

However, it is not the cities and their now silent streets that will draw an unknown observer's optical units. No it will be the pockets beyond the broken civilizations that will bring the curious. With the soft khiss of laser rifles being discharged and the deep rumbling booms of explosives and larger fire arms, alongside the flashes of light from the discharging weapons. First here, then there in the night cycle as the wielders move and weave to avoid being hit while trying to take down those across the invisible line separating the groups. The bright blaze of blue and red light solidifying into the glow of optics used by these large mechanical creatures to see by. The silence of the cities now lost in the tumulus of weapons and the natural sounds of these sentient machines as their gears and pieces move and spat electrical signals, even as hydraulics hiss and pop with each frenzied movement.

The chaos seeming to affect all as they push the boundaries between each side like an ebbing and flowing of an ocean on more organic planets. Few seeming to acknowledge the distant clouds heralding an acid storm, even as the large amounts of electrical discharge from the seething clouds set various sensors on edge or even to slightly malfunction from the energy overload. The encroaching storm instead of making the fighting slow down, instead sends it into an even greater frenzy as now the fight for sufficient cover is at hand as well. The last few shots given just as the first fat drops fall to the ground and begin to sizzle as the acid reacts with the metal, and then even that is drowned out with the typical roar as the world is nothing more then a sheet of falling acid.

"Sensors down, we're not going to be tracking them for at least another joor unless this rain lets up quicker then what was predicted."

"Someone get me a welder over here, Livewire doesn't look like he's going to be able to self repair that wound."

"Primary energon pump failing!"

"Slagging Decepticons got Bullseye."

"Medic!"

"Don't give up on me yet you fragger. You can shake that off and be out busting Decepticon helms in no time."

The crowded hallways were a sight out of a bad dream that has become reality more and more to those within it. The wounded sitting or leaning against walls as the few mechs and femmes bearing the red medic symbol performed triage, often times not even attempting to move the seriously wounded into the medical bay before they had their tools deep within another Cybertronian. The scream of machines and shouts within the medical bay painting an even grimmer picture then that of the one for those who were deemed safe enough to be left alone; as the more seriously wounded were either part of an attempt to be saved, or even deactivated out of mercy when it became apparent there would be no way to save them as the glow of a spark in a chest compartment guttered and began to fade.

All of this ignored by the golden armored warrior stalking down the halls and trailing energon, though not his own, from the blades extending from his arms. The few dents and scuffs upon the frame adding to the aura of keep out of the way as mechs and femmes unconsciously and automatically moved from the path of this particular mech and his single minded journey to the deeper parts of the building.

"Sunstreaker, you're walking wounded and haven't been debriefed yet!"

The gold mech, who barely paused at the shout of his designation, ignored the minibot trying to stop him as he stalked into a room that seemed unoccupied by anyone. Until one began to follow the various cables and wires to the corner farthest from the door that Sunstreaker had entered, and the one that was now caddy corner to Sunstreaker. Blue optics landing on the largest pile of wires that gave flashes of red and white armor beneath in their softly moving way from the electrical charge going through them. Only for a majority to uncoil and fall away to show a smaller and less armored, compared to Sunstreaker, mech underneath. The red and white paint job still obscured as nearly every single cable seemed to be painfully connected to the inner circuitry of the mech through various armor gaps and transformation seams. The helm barely rising at the intrusion due to the sheer weight and amount of cables hooked and slinking away from the helm and the delicate cpu housed within.

Even as optics, though very dimmed to the point the normal blue was so pale it was almost white, onlined to visually confirm the energy signature that had entered. Another mech appeared from the door not being occupied by Sunstreaker. The white and green paint job with bits of red seeming overly cheerful in the dimly lit room filled with the dark cables. The odd fin like lights on the helm of the new mech lighting up briefly that to those who knew the color and code with the flickering and brightening of lights, could translate to being an emotion of surprise at the sight of Sunstreaker's frame in the doorway.

"Sunstreaker, what are you do-"

"Mute it Wheeljack. Where's our Commandercurrently hiding away at?"

Wheeljack only sighed at the deadly tone being used in regards to the title used for the mech Sunstreaker was looking for. His attempts to try and calm down the volatile frontliner before he once again ended up striking out at someone that wasn't a Decepticon came to a halt when the third mech in the room finally spoke up.

"Prowl's current exact location is unknown. His tracking signal was lost when the rain started."

The static filled voice had the other two mechs wincing, though Sunstreaker only did so mentally, as it once more struck home the little detail of what exactly was happening to the mech connected to Teletraan's remaining databases and functional systems. However briefly before both once more deleted or sent the errant thought to a file further back in their processors when Sunstreaker gave a sound that, though acknowledging the implications of that statement, was still seething with anger and murderous intent before he turned around and stalked back the way he came.

"It seems the information about that transmission is spreading faster then we thought, if Sunstreaker is on the hunt for Prowl this early in the cycle. If he's not trying to force Prowl to send him off after Sideswipe again that is."

Wheeljack didn't expect an answer to his musing, and thus was not surprised when the room fell back into the eerie ambiance of humming electrical currents and the faint sound of systems running at optimal speeds, even as cooling fans attempted to keep the living hub of information from overheating due to the energy taxing procedures being done. Even though he knows it won't be noticed, the engineer rearranges the other mech into a more comfortable position from the one of the smaller bot standing upright and using the corner to keep said standing position. Before heading out once more through the same door as Sunstreaker, pausing to initiate the closing and locking sequence for the door and setting it to his personal code only.

As much as he would have liked to have turned around and yanked every wire and cable out of the young security bot, or head off after the figure of Sunstreaker in hopes of keeping the frontliner from doing something he would regret later when his temper cooled; if only in the fact of having to spend time in the brig again. Wheeljack however did neither and instead headed down a corridor that was devoid of anyone else moving about.

He sadly had his own priorities that outweighed both Red Alert and Sunstreaker, due to the order to fall back to the ruins of Praxus that was even now echoing over the encrypted lines of the Autobots.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** No own no sue

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Silverbolt could feel the dread echoing through the gestalt bond, even as he felt personal relief that he tucked away deep into his cpu. The rest of his brothers already beginning the usual complaints when that particular order came down to them, as they already knew it would mean a long stay in the underground ruins that were used as bolt holes and temporary bases of operations. The need to keep Decepticons from finding them meaning time to fly or even walk about aboveground was going to be frowned upon. The only thing keeping Air Raid and Slingshot from ignoring the order completely was the ping on another channel with a request from Wheeljack to find another set that wouldn't go back without a helpful push.

That order Silverbolt didn't need much of a helping hand in corralling the four other flying mechs, and all of them changing direction and flying formation as they picked up speed and headed towards the ruins of Altihelix. The muffled sounds of battle being picked up on various sensors when there was still about a hundred miles before they reached their destination; a testament to the ferociousness of the battle taking place within the old manufacturing city. Something that was a bit odd considering even the more violent of the Decepticons had no qualm in keeping to their side when a fall back was in motion.

~They're fighting with tactics and intensity I haven't seen before.~

~Well, 'Dive something is making them want to deactivate everyone with the autobot symbol down there.~

~I figured as much Air Raid.~

The bickering, if Sky Dive was starting to bicker that was normally a bad sign and meant something worse was going to happen if Silverbolt didn't figure out what was causing it and who was transmitting that feeling into the bond, was cut short and left to simmer in the back of cpus when they entered into the main area of the battling. Causing them to scatter and evade as several Decepticons, and a few Autobots who were shooting on automatic and didn't register the flyers as friendly. Slingshot's muttered complaints about such easily ignored as it was still a novelty to many autobots that not every Cybertronian that can fly was going to be a Decepticon. Silverbolt though, had no time for such musings as he banked sharply to the left and killed his altitude to fly below the scanner clogging ash and smoke that was rolling thick over the main area of battle.

~Found one!~

The excited cry of Fireflight over the bond was almost redundant as Silverbolt heard the sudden cry of "Blades" from Fireflight's vocalizer just as the distinct sound of a metal body hitting another metal body echoed alongside the sound of rifle's firing wildly and the surprised stream of curses and exclamations from helicopter type model currently being dragged out of the midst of the battle by a red painted jet model. The gestalt leader feeling a bit relieved that Fireflight was now heading away from the thick hail of fire, and the various buildings that were still sitting high enough to be a hazard to the crash prone jet. Leaving only two other jets that Silverbolt would have to watch like a cyberhawk in case of trouble, while still trying to find and collect the rest of the young gestalt team that tended to take on more then they could handle in an attempt to be as much help as possible.

Sky Dive, whether or not he was burrowing deeper into the part of the bond that was Silverbolt or was just using his tactical abilities to make his decisions, lessened that worry yet again as he lived up to his designation. Suddenly cutting power to his engines to fall into the middle of a cluster of Decepticons, scattering and confusing them long enough that Sky Dive could land and drag a smaller mech away. Only to then hand the now calmed down Streetwise to a slightly bewildered Slingshot, who had followed after Sky Dive, and thus making Slingshot take off with the white cycleformer in his grip. That act already cutting the chance of Slingshot getting into a bad situation by doing more then he should in an attempt to prove himself.

A flash of red and white and a familiar frame had Silverbolt forget about his constant worries for his team and back onto what he was supposed to be doing as he circled back around to confirm what his optics had noticed. Only to veer upwards to avoid a concentrated shot that was definitely not normal rifle fire. The figure that he knew was First Aid diving off into the cover of two buildings leaning against one another, just as the land alt form of Blitzwing came crashing through another building, the Decepticon twins, Runabout and Runamock rushing in from behind before weaving and swerving to another area that had been holding some autobots who had been pinned under the combined fire from what seemed like half of the combaticon gestalt team. Before there was a sudden war whoop and Topspin lead another group in a counter attack against the combaticons present and the demolition twins.

This left Blitzwing to fall back and notice the lone autobot jet, his main gun in his alt mode coming up suddenly and taking aim before Silverbolt had any clue he was being sighted. The sound of Blitzwing's gun warming up managed to warn the jet in time as he killed his engines completely and transformed to his root mode right before his frame made painful contact with the ground. Only to re-meet it once again as the sudden deep vibrations of a large cannon being fired close by sent him rolling down the rubble he had landed on, as part of the building he had been flying in front of disintegrated and crumbled under the sudden meeting of concentrated energy being fired at it. The concussion of sound from such close range managing to fritz Silverbolt's audios; to the point that they had to manually reboot several times before they managed to recalibrate to a level that would allow him to use them again without getting a feedback of harsh static and white noise. Just in time for him to hear Blitzwing once more warming up his main cannon again after corrections had been made to put Silverbolt in his sights once more.

A ploy that would have worked if it wasn't a normal attack method of Blitzwing when it came to any of the aerialbots that would get in range enough for him to attempt such. Many decepticons believing the jet gestalt team, being slower then the Seekers in terms of speed, and were thus far more likely to be hit by them somehow. Even as once again Silverbolt showed just how much faster a jet model was in comparison to even the fastest of ground models as he took a diving leap for cover before Blitzwing was even finished warming up for the shot. Leaving the triple changer to curse in aggravation and instead correct his shot to the general direction of the clashing group that he had originally been after.

"If you're going to be a fragging target practice drone you could be better at it then that! Slagging jet."

The sudden laughter of Air Raid as he loop de looped over Silverbolt had the gestalt leader feeling like his spark had jumped into his throat with worry, as behind Air Raid a seeker trine came roaring after him. The silent pings over the communication system from both Sky Dive and Silverbolt ignored as the tricks became more elaborate and the taunting made to incite even greater reactions of rage from the sleek lined seekers chasing after Air Raid. The flippant way Air Raid was reacting to the chase making it seem as if he was only seeing the events happening as nothing more then another training exercise that held no consequences if it failed and resulted in a shot hitting the jet, that was now careening around the ruins at speeds that would have had many thinking a meeting of mech with lifeless steel was imminent. The display actually making a few pockets of fighting stop for a moment to duck and scatter when it became apparent the acrobatic display and thus the subsequent splatter effect of the missiles and bullets from the seekers following Air Raid were not going to remain above their helms. The four fliers at times coming dangerously close to having their underbellies scraping ground or ruins when dives came far too close before there was any indication of any pulling out of the steep and barely controlled plummets. The two seekers in the back even skirting the danger of going nosecone first into a building when they attempted to copy Air Raid and the lead seeker in a complicated maneuver that ended with a sharp upward incline mere meters from the face of a building.

=If we're going to get a show every time you mechs show up on a battlefield I'd hang out with you more often.=

Silverbolt managed a quick scan in his immediate area for Groove when the comm. line came alive with his musings, before returning to his attempts to get Air Raid to stop antagonizing the seekers and get back to what they were here for, and only the slight jolts of worry that would leak through the bond every time Air Raid came close to a disaster giving away the fact it was not just professional reasons that Silverbolt was attempting to get his fellow jet to be more careful. Especially when Sky Dive sent a silent apology to Silverbolt just as he pinpointed Groove and shot down to grab him and retreat out of the city. Leaving Silverbolt to find the last two on their list, as well as keep an optic on Air Raid in case he took on more then he could handle in his attempt to have every flight capable Decepticon in the area chasing after him.

A likely outcome considering the last two of the group they were supposed to get a hold of were the hardest ones to pry away from their duties, actual or not when it came to the chaos of the battlefield. Hot Spot was not one to be out of the battlefield before an official retreat was sounded, and even then the young search and rescue mech would have to be dragged away if he got it into his cpu that he was still needed; and First Aid wouldn't leave on his own power if he believed anyone so much as had a dent in their frame that he could fix.

However there wasn't much complaining about it now was going to accomplish, and Sigma willing Air Raid's acrobatics would have at least the quiet little medic popping up from whatever bolt hole he was in to fret at jet and thus reset the priority protocol in Air Raid back to where it should be.

Which left him to find the blue and white leader and out stubborn him enough to get them out of here and back to Wheeljack.


	3. Chapter 3

Praxus was always a city that was hard for many to return to under the best of conditions. The bombed out city, though like many of the other ruins that had been the backdrop for the stage of the war that had sent all into rigid faction lines and taking away the choice of true neutrality, Praxus had been the hardest hit in terms of overall morale of many, as the city had been designated as a truly neutral zone by both sides early on, and to this day both sides blamed the other for the barely armed city being destroyed by an unknown force. A force that could have come from either side as the lack of survivors that truly knew, or had memory files not corrupted due to sever damage were ever really found. The reports and conflicting interviews making it hard to pin point the blame on anyone no matter how much one felt certain they could lay the blame at the feet of a certain mech or faction. Many citing this as what truly changed the tone of the war, and why it took something of great importance to make any faction fall back to the city for any reason that was not a last stand tactic.

Thus, it was not really much of a surprise that many of the autobots that slinked and crept into the deeper areas, and closer to the fabled ground zero, that it sent most of them on edge. The grumbling complaints as they waited impatiently for someone to tell them why they were there or just even why it was important enough for a cease fire to be temporarily ordered on their side of the equation. The more aggressive feeling ones of the group almost snarling as theories and half formed gossip swept through the various clusters scattered around the large room that had been salvaged vorns ago as a temporary shelter.

The distribution and placement seeming random to any who were not used to finding and figuring out patterns and other details that would give away the mentality of someone or a group. It was why Smokescreen was sitting up high as mechs and femmes, battle weary and in far from perfect working conditions, trickled in and moved to groups they felt the most comfortable with. This very act like how some organic creatures on other worlds would flock to the same type of organic in groups for safety and comfort. The tactician and psychologist knowing with barely a glance that each group were all composed of like minded and battle experienced types. With the older and more bitter of the warriors and support units trickling in moving to the far dark corners that allowed them to see everything but not for everything to see them; and the range moving downward to the more inexperienced and more optimistic of the gathering closer to the door. The very movements of these groups and the slow build of agitation all the warning he would need in figuring out what was being discussed as they waited for the last of known survivors from the farther corners of the dying planet to arrive. Something that didn't need audio or even much processing power after the many vorns of doing such translations of frame tension and energy distribution to 'hear' a conversation.

The only group he couldn't really read being not really a group, but very distinct in the lack of these mechs and femmes not grouping together at all. The almost steadfast attempts to keep a minimum distance to stay out of most grabbing ranges and always with backs against the wall. The ingrained paranoia that had only intensified and been fed by various other problems their war ravaged supplies couldn't deal with anymore, making it far too easy to pick out who was nothing more then a mobile security system. Drones with sparks by definition of the various others who were not as subtle in their words or attitudes. The finicky systems and odd coding only another security spec could understand or even know what to do with; making the lightly armored mechs a mystery, and only their ability to fully interface into any network and control it the staying grace in them being kept and not just shuttled off like various other job specs that would have been nothing more then a waste of resources to convert to anything combat useful. Making them seem even more of a bane because the grumblers couldn't mount enough of counter argument in the face of the logical advantages these nearly helpless mechs and femmes symbolized in their current advantage over the Decepticon force that was still planet side. Few of the other faction willing to have the patience to protect and safe guard security specs no matter how much of a good resource they were.

Of course Smokescreen had to shake his own helm to scatter these lingering code fragments. Trying not to think about when he started seeing his fellow Cybertronians in the view one would have when deciding which parts and tools were essential for everyday survival. Just because he sometimes wondered if that way lead to rationalizing Decepticon behavior and the slippery down hill slide would go full force at that point. Leading into coding behavior that would have been far and few between before the war but now ran rampant even amongst those who were supposed to be the more soft sparked faction.

'_Only a glitch in the morale code is missing for some of these mechs to go the way of the Decepticon, and should rightfully be in stasis lock until we can fix the behavioral coding snags.'_

It was an absent minded and clinical evaluation of the slowly growing group below him, even as he noted they would barely peak past five hundred if even the seriously wounded were being dragged in, because he certainly wasn't going to add that to his evaluation report he was currently making in one area of his processor. It would be redundant and of no use to any of the surviving officers. They just couldn't _afford_ to put anyone in stasis lock outside of them truly going buggy and was more likely to shoot them as well as the enemy. And some of the smaller units who went past the orbital pull of Cybertron to those cold and vulnerable stations on various large asteroids were even contemplating and debating if there would be a way to just send those overly glitched riddled ones in as shock troops. Just point them towards the right group to be fragged to pieces, get everyone else out of the way, and let them go until they fritzed themselves out or ended up being taken down by similar glitches on the other side. Unethical to the very meaning of what they were as Autobots, and such talk would have had the ones muttering such speculations in stasis cuffs and tried in any other circumstance.

But war made the morale high ground harder to remain on and their Prime was not there to lead by example on such. Oh what he would say, not in words but with his frame and optics, would probably make them all feel as if they had personally killed a sparkling in front of the Prime and have them climbing back up the hill again to being morally right. Probably would jump start a few of the more troublesome slaggers to start fighting with effort again as well.

'_Prime isn't here though, and they only continue to follow Prowl because he's one of the few things keeping us all from being tortured and deactivated in some holding cell of Shockwave's. We can't afford inter-faction fighting because we don't have the resources or man power to be split, but it's getting harder and harder to just pin point a trouble group or individual and sooth hurt feelings from Prowl's orders. That was Jazz's strong point outside of battle. I just monitored their behavior and interfered when it became apparent a coding rewrite or fix was needed. I left the emotional bonding and talking to those who would give a damn about every little flare up of affection or jealousy that went on. Things most of the security specialized ones blessedly seemed to never really have even before the war or the need to tell one and all about any latest interface conquest or break up.'_

That was an uncharitable thought and it took a barely any change in his processing to erase that from the observations he was doing to reword and format into a report after the meeting. Security specs were meant to be discrete and were encouraged to only keep up a small social group that would keep the need to be around someone at bay when they were sent into veritable isolation for long periods of time. Which had been the saving grace in keeping even a fraction of Teletraan in their control and operational when Soundwave and led the siege to over take the AI's server building.

'_And there's the little gaggle of good fortune and spark attack inducing pain that we were waiting for. Primus forbid those two combiner teams not show up and have Wheeljack out for some mech's energon. A good engineer when pushed, but he clings a bit too much in protecting the two sets of experiments of war in some odd sort of guilt and possessiveness. Likely due to the apparent connotations of the Aerialbots and Protectobots being the last project to be worked on before the launching of the Allspark and Prime's departure.'_

And just like that the only fliers left to their side, not counting those who had gone insane from virus and glitch related problems to be placed in stasis, entered with a group of normal ground models that would not have been given much pause if one wasn't keeping up to date on the data bursts. Though the combiner aspect was heartening it was the fact one of those mechs was a _medic_ that would have gotten attention from anyone. It seemed like every time they turned around another medic was slagged to the pit by the Decepticons. Like some sort of vendetta or knowledge that they weren't going to just cobble their fighters together with imperfect parts and send them out again and again until they died. Seeming to know they only had little medics with armor that barely could take a hard swat from a fist, let alone the pulse rounds and incendiary bombs that were all too common on the battlefield. The knowledge that their last good medic, that could take a hit and give one back had left along with their Prime on what would be considered a fool's errand all the more apparent as everyone settled in.

'_First Aid, a bit too hesitant to shoot, never aims for anything critical when he does finally bring a weapon up and only does so when a patient's welfare is in concern and not his own. Sturdy armor wise and denser then most mech's his size. Probably due to the transformation needs when combining with his brothers. More mass possibly necessary, as well as one or two redundant systems in the event of being hit. Would be too much of a hassle if Defensor breaks apart anytime he gets nicked and some system got an error due to said nicking. A stickler for duty, though all of them are to a point, but he would be the one to sway from blindly following Wheeljack when the decision to keep his team here on Cybertron until the last moment is brought up. Not at the angle of it being best tactically but appeal to the fact that if our two biggest hitters still functioning and on Cybertron at this time were to leave first then a lot of lighter framed individuals would be vulnerable and likely to sustain major injury when the Decepticons do figure out we're surrendering the planet and retreating. His Medic prerogative codes will have him refusing to leave and thus his gestalt will remain as well. Cascading into the aerialbots as well if we've read them correctly.'_

The flowing thoughts settled as the small black and white frame moved through the crowd silently to take up a position where he could be seen and heard by all in the cavernous room. The brief terse words ignored by Smokescreen as he already knew what was going to be mentioned and instead began to categorize the mechs into groups based on their reactions when the recording that had been pinged and bounced from different locations and encryption lines to keep it out from being intercepted between the small unit on Alegorian to Cybertron.

Things were about to escalate and Smokescreen was already running his computing simulators to verify and calculate the odds of what sort of violent scenario they all were going to meet as the Prime's voice asked them to abandon their home.


	4. Chapter 4

"….Give up our home…"

"What about Shockwave? He's still planet side."

"It's a trick it has to be a trick."

"What was the point of all of this then?"

"Do we really have to give up our home?"

"It's dying; rather leave then sit here and die with it."

The message still replaying on loop in many processors had caused a complete descent into chaos that nothing the Decepticons could have done would have even been up to par with this. Dissentions and panic on such a scale that had not been seen since the first rumbles of a potential for this war to happen had rippled through the streets of once whole and functioning cities. Lines to not be crossed and factions being made, though the more violent prone ones were swiftly dealt with by friends or superiors before it grew too large and harsh to contain by peaceful means.

This wasn't the concern of the gold gilt warrior that was moving with uncanny purpose to where the remaining inner circle of officers were discussing and debating the plan of action. At least that was what most of the rank and file mechs were told, Sunstreaker may be one of the better close combat mechs still online on the Autobot side, but being a frontline warrior didn't mean he was working with half a processor. Which was why he was not even going to give his superiors time to finalize anything until he could corner them, or more specifically the black and white tactician that had been his main source of anger and loathing over the thousands of years in which they slowly lost Cybertron by inches.

"Sunstreaker."

There was barely a slow down as he rounded the corner to witness the brightly painted frame of the engineer with a mass of wires in his arms that showed glints of red and white armor amidst the black as well. The blast mask covering any facial features that would give away emotion if one did not know how to interprets Wheeljack by his voice inflection and vocal and audio indicators, something that let Sunstreaker easily by pass the smaller autobot and his burden in his single minded march. Only stopping when a flash of white with black trimmed armor coming out of a room as he passed registered in his processors. The form of Prowl coiling the length of wires that were trailing behind Wheeljack seeming to trigger another level of seething anger in Sunstreaker, just because of how wrong the scene was on some level.

"I'm going with the advance team."

The tactician and current commander of the Autobot forces barely flicked a sensor panel at this demand and threat from the larger gold frame. Instead silently finishing up the current bundle of wires with a twist of a tie to keep the neat loops of cables as such and not unravel as Wheeljack moved. The mixed-match glass of the brown optics, because of the lack of supplies forcing them to use whatever materials were available for repairs and replacements, finally looking away from Wheeljack and the inert bundle that was more then likely Red Alert, and up at Sunstreaker with a steady intent and completely blank and drone like features on facial plates.

"You are tactically more advantageous here as part of the final defense and not amongst those of the vanguard team due to the parameters set out by the survival gain and loss line."

The crack and groan of metal bending under the sudden and powerful force of a metal fist connecting with a metal wall was loud, and caused a few curious mechs to pop their heads out of various openings. Only to duck back in and pretend to be busy when the situation had been verified, for few mechs were ever willing to tangle with Sunstreaker when he was in a bad mood. Especially if their 'Commander' was the target of that ire, and the potential for energon to coat the floors was high in that regard for whatever unlucky mech attempted to get between the two.

"Because that is what Prime would expect?"

"That is what was tactically evaluated as the best result for the most lives saved then lost when we do pull out from Cybertron. Shockwave will come after the final group or sooner with only a three percent chance of error in which we would all slip away unnoticed. Thus the last team to leave should be one tactically able to fend off an attack by Shockwave and thus buy viable time for those who had gone on ahead."

"So it really is a decided thing that we're going to bow our heads and come running like newly onlined mechs at the call of our leader. How wonderful that now he wants to finally remember those of us here in his little adventure to find the Allspark."

"Hey now Sunstreaker that's…"

Wheeljack trailed off when both Prowl and Sunstreaker sent him a look. Making the engineer shift the dead weight in his arms as he moved slowly away from the two when it became apparent he couldn't distract them from this long over due confrontation. The tension almost a solid force as Sunstreaker hissed static and low threatening words that showed just how much the warrior really felt about their currently missing Prime. Even as the clipped and emotionless words of Prowl brought up nothing more then logical and precise answers that never once touched upon the emotional end of the explanation that may have helped in others understanding the explanation.

"The Allspark mission was highly graded in importance and with the large percentile in the possibility of a confrontation with Megatron at one point or another upon the mission parameters was why it was deemed a necessary risk Sunstreaker. The Allspark and the faction that controls the artifact would be in control of a higher percentage of viable surrendering conditions. As well as that the one who can control it can control the flow of new soldiers."

"Yes, because that's what your precious computations tell and the Prime's esteemed _sacrifice_ to volunteer for such a mission and leave us here to slowly be deactivated by Shockwave and Soundwave was the path to our salvation. So yes, of course, following the Prime's orders will never lead us wrong."

"Your feelings on this is not going to change anything Sunstreaker, and the only reason your lack of protocol following has not landed you with any punishment detail is because of the fact that tactically it would be unwise to place you in the brig."

The silent threat of this point of view upon Sunstreaker changing was one that had remained for several thousands of years now. Before it broke and the gold painted warrior was gone moving down corridors in such a manner that all others got out of his way.

"One of these cycles Prowl he's not going to be able to hold onto his sensibilities or his promise to Sideswipe to not get in trouble and killed."

The white and black autobot went back to coiling wires for easier transport, ignoring Wheeljack and the silent bundle in his arms. The war and everything that came with it never stopped for personal battles.


	5. Chapter 5

They tended to see him as a drone, sparkless and without any higher processing capabilities outside of his classification parameters.

/Input of the battle schematics for A-2234 Quadrant Z Helix acceleration/

_Processing…initializing priority subroutine. Compression and Archiving of relevant data in progress._

His once designation lost to all but a few that still talked to him on audio frequencies that were not hard lined into his memory storage devices for input. Some who only ever touched upon his existence to input new data or request data to be given thought of him as nothing more then the Archival Artificial Intelligence of Iacon Legislative and Broadcasting Network, or Teletraan.

/Inquiry about the tactical advantageous of the maneuvers of Unit Alpha 3 six upon the moon of Kal-en Solfri system in regards to the gestalt teams Bruticus and Meansor./

_Calculating…Accessing neural uplinks level T-231, encryption level Theta._

He never responded to the ones who communicated with him out loud and so they all thought he was unaware, but he knew, and knew them on a level they didn't understand' as the bright lines and nodes of data that those search parameters lead to in intricate yet orderly ways, also snaked through the vibrant novas of mechs that unwittingly opened themselves to his access when they would interface with any machine he was connected to. Those that he once considered his own hardware specification tribe an open and freely given well of data and code lines to be accessed and stored for future use within his own memory processors. Something that before had never been an option outside of the brief contacts with such vast amounts of stored data when he would uplink to one of the city A.I.'s for routine maintenance of their security coding and equipment, or during this war to hack and breach systems that had fallen into the hands of the Decepticons.

_Free space in primary and secondary memory cores insufficient for any more data input. Subroutines 35 initiating._

He remembered dimly a time when he had been like those that moved about him. When he did not spend most of his functioning time processing large amounts of code and archiving relevant information for future uplinks. When he didn't slowly shift through his own basic programming and stripped or compressed it to make room for more information. Stripping himself of everything that had once been Red Alert because Teletraan and not Red Alert was needed.

/Video Feedback Inquiry of Polyhelix battle 54-R-Metracial/

_Searching…_

That battle memory should have hurt him for some reason, even as he brought the video feed up that a dim part of him that was still Red Alert knew was a personal video feed from his own optical array of the battle. Stripped of the emotional overtone and personal interpretations of it all, as a mech that was once him but was no longer truly functioning to be that mech watched from behind a wall of a blast proof fabrication of a clear substance. As the large room in the center of the Science Academy Biological Science Branch was breached by a Decepticon siege and the small strike force that had been deployed to evacuate the civilian population of the facility were brutally ripped apart. The small battalion having been made up of upgraded search and rescue class tribes that had about two vorns of battle experience mixed between the group of twenty. The sudden appearance of the technopath Soundwave and his small army of symbiotic drones, the initial sequence as the remaining survivors formulated one last attempt to keep the last server with the back up memory of Teletraan out of the hands of Soundwave. Cables and pings on several channels for him to drop all of his firewalls and accept his slow deactivation.

_Video feed aborted, classification rank insufficient for full log of inquiry._

He had stared for a long moment at a mech that had fallen to protect him until the unit lead by a mech name Springer could arrive to turn the battle odds and extract him and what was slowly weaving and changing his very processors. The emotional connotations of that action had been deleted three thousand years ago when he had still be only working with one memory core, instead of the four that now took up most of his energy when they had taken his weapons and weapon software out to make room. An internal touch and his search routines were quietly following a bright line from the video feed to a text file with the normal parameters and information of every autobot deactivated or otherwise that had joined in the past four million years.

Inferno, civilian search and rescue tribe model of the Kaon quadrant with experience and software upgrades for interstellar travel and exploration. Surveyor assistant with the weaponry and basic knowledge to protect any exploration team upon unknown worlds. Joined the Autobots forty thousand planetary rotations ago, deactivated in battle twelve thousand planetary rotations ago. The dry and impersonal data burst gave name to facial structure and thus assuaged most of the curiosity and internal inquiry about the forty astroseconds piece of video that had focused upon the graying husk of the mech. The small part that still was aware gave a soft sound of distress at this, even as the majority of his processors deemed the small clip unnecessary and thus was permanently deleted to free up more memory for the influx of data that those around him kept feeding into him.

/Status report of memory and physical scans./

_Acknowledged and scanning…Memory cores 1-3 at 98% capacity, memory core 4 at 60% capacity, internal memory and basic coding stripped to 25% efficiency. Prognosis: Installation of new memory core and deletion of hardware processing section 2034._

/Acknowledged and algorithms in effect in approving suggestion…I'm sorry Red Alert./

A soft thrum in his chassis seemed to acknowledge that last part of the transmission from one of the few remaining engineers or scientists that remained alive and functional amidst the faction. The designation and frame schematics only a brief touch away if he had wished to follow the glowing trail from that communication link frequency. However, the tactical unit had just fed a large if/then scenario and the corresponding codes and equations for the loss/gain line and thus was deemed a higher priority then that of figuring out the mech that for some reason was seeking forgiveness from Red Alert.

Red Alert was too far within his spark to acknowledge the plea, as Teletraan computed the data and archived it.


End file.
